


of time and lives and loved ones forgotten

by mollivanders



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry waits a whole year before he comes back to Hogwarts (comes back just in time for Halloween). He leaves Ron and Hermione at The Three Broomsticks and wanders his way back to the castle, wanting to be alone when he sees it again for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of time and lives and loved ones forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> **Title: of time and lives and loved ones forgotten**  
>  Fandom: Harry Potter  
> Rating: G  
> Characters: Harry/Luna, Ron, Hermione  
> Summary: Set post Book 7. Word Count - 959  
> Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns _Harry Potter_ and all its characters.

Harry waits a whole year before he comes back to Hogwarts (comes back just in time for Halloween).

He leaves Ron and Hermione at The Three Broomsticks and wanders his way back to the castle, wanting to be alone when he sees it again for the first time. He still remembers his _first_ first time, floating across the lake on tiny boats with the other first years, Hagrid’s booming voice guiding them home.

It isn’t snowing yet but his feet crunch on the ice crusting the path between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, the only disturbance beside his passage the low hooting of owls and the flap of their wings as they make their way back to the castle. Before he even realizes it, Hogwarts is looming up in front of him, its repaired towers and gate filling up his view.

Hesitantly, he reaches out and grips the bars of the great gate (it swings gently open, inviting him in).

Professor McGonagall’s not expecting them until tomorrow, the night of the actual feast, but Harry steps in anyway and makes his way up the driveway to where the front door stands locked. He doubts it would let him pass just as easily but it’s not his goal – he begins the circle around the castle to where the Quidditch Pitch lies.

“Hello, Harry,” a pleasant voice calls out to him and he starts, reaching for his wand.

“Oh, hello Luna,” he answers, surprised to see the blonde witch on the grounds. “What are you doing here?”

“Professor Sinistra’s thinking of retiring,” she says and stops next to him. Harry feels strangely examined, having forgotten the intensity of her stare (the way she looks right through him and doesn’t ask any questions). “And The Quibbler’s circulation has been down lately. Father says I should consider it.”

Shaking his head, Harry tries to focus. “Consider what exactly?” He continues walking, wanting to get to the pitch before the sun completely sets, and Luna falls into step beside him (no questions).

“Taking the teaching position, of course,” she answers and Harry looks at her in surprise.

“I didn’t realize you liked Astronomy that much,” he says thoughtfully and Luna plays at her necklace (radishes today) and smiles comfortably.

“I’m not,” she admits, “but perhaps Professor Flitwick will want to retire soon as well.”

He’d forgotten her mother was an expert in charms (so was his).

“Do you miss it?” she asks and Harry slows his steps to look at her before answering.

“All the time,” he confides. “Working at the Ministry is okay but…it’s always the same.”

“I thought it was strange you wanted to be an Auror,” Luna says brightly, as though she was expecting this answer. “I thought you might keep playing Quidditch. I always enjoyed watching your games.”

If it were any other girl, Harry might have thought she was flirting with him, but it was Luna (she could mean what he thought, but she would never say it like that).

“Do you fly, Luna?” he asked her, suddenly curious. “I don’t remember you flying anything but a Thestral.”

“Ginny likes to fly,” Luna answers, “and I would fly with her. I’ll fly with you, if you like, Harry.”

It’s easy to break into the locker room and Harry pulls out a Comet for Luna and a Nimbus 2002 for himself (he wouldn’t touch a 2001 in case Malfoy had ever flown it).

Pushing off the field with Luna right behind him, the rush of the wind in his ears and the chill of the night against his skin, it’s like he never left. He hasn’t forgotten anything about this – but it’s been far too long.

Luna’s almost invisible against the dying light in her blue robes and long blonde hair, tied back in a braid for the flight, and Harry tosses her the Quaffle hoping she’s not too out of practice, watches her dive like a swan and bring it back up to toss it high above for him to chase.

“You should try out for Puddlemere,” she tells him when they land. “You should practice, but you’re still very good.”

“Ron would kill me,” Harry answered, regretting the loss of the broom as he put them away. “I hear the Chudley Cannons are having tryouts soon.”

“I suppose,” Luna conceded. “You might like to win again though, Harry.”

He follows her back to the front doors. She invites him in but he knows Ron and Hermione will be missing him, wonder what’s taking him so long.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promises and Luna smiles, distracted by something by his ear (a Nargle, perhaps) and Harry swats at his ear just in case.

“Perhaps,” she agrees and disappears into the dark castle.

(At the Halloween Feast, she’s nowhere to be seen and Professor McGonagall gives him a strange look when he asks where Luna is. 

He puts it out of his mind and stuffs himself full of pumpkin pie before he and Ron toast Hermione, McGonagall and the Prime Minister, and make a bet with Hagrid the Chudley Cannons will win the Quidditch World Cup this year. 

Leaving the grounds, Harry thinks he spies Luna but when he catches up to her, it’s a startled fifth year. She never was that tall.)

When he and Ron get back to their flat in London, there’s a letter waiting for Harry. There’s a faint perfume he can't quite place (hasn’t quite forgotten) with no return address. All that’s inside is a scrawled note in blue ink that Harry tucks away and doesn’t tell anyone about.

All it says is: ‘Hogwarts still needs a Defense Against the Dark Arts position. At least once a year.’

 _Perhaps_ , he thinks to himself. _Someday._

_Finis_


End file.
